Why Don't They Like Me?
by BKL8008
Summary: When the Dark Lord rose to power again, Tristan's old Pureblood family fled to America. When he turned 11, the year after the Final Battle , they came back so that he could attend Hogwarts. Everything was fine, right up until his Sorting...


We had a great time on the Hogwarts Express. There were only a few kids that I knew that I'd went to primary school with, but it was still a good time. I hadn't seem 'em in a while, so we had a lot to talk about. We met some new kids, ate candy, talked, and I got to meet my first Muggleborn. I knew a bit about Muggles and how they invented technology to take the place of magic, but it was still cool. I mean, I might be a Pureblood and all, but I know what a cell phone is, OK? It was funny that no one told that Matthew kid that Muggle tech doesn't work inside a magical area, though. I think he's gonna be lost without it. He was still trying to figure out how owls carry mail, I think, never mind sweets that can fight back. Licorice Snaps bite; why else would they call them "snaps"? The ride took forever, even though we all had a good time on the train. I couldn't wait to get there. I was finally eleven; I was finally going to Hogwarts!

I knew about Hagrid from my folks, so I wasn't scared of him when we arrived and he started yelling for us to follow him. I really just tried to ignore him. Mum and Dad said he was a half-giant, and that we didn't associate with people like him. Well, he was huge and _did_ scare some of the kids. Then again, they said not to talk to Mudbloods, but I don't know why. Matthew was really nice to me, and Hagrid seemed OK too. He kept telling me it was going to be all right, because I don't like boats or water. All right, I was terrified. But he got me talked into it without getting mad at me. Dad gets annoyed pretty quick, so I figured Hagrid was gonna bite my head off, from what they told me about him. That, or feed me to some strange pet monster of his. He had a ferret in his pocket, but I think it was dead?

Dad had some pictures of the Castle and told me all about the place, but seeing it was way better. I mean, you can't put something like that in a picture. It loses something! A lot of something. We were all just staring at it, and Matthew (and the other Muggleborns?) were all just frozen staring at it; they didn't say a word. Neither did I. It was _that _cool. It was _Hogwarts_!

Mum and Dad warned me too, that they didn't like the new teachers. I guess a lot of the old staff were retiring, and they were going to train their replacements, my Hogwarts letter said. I was thinking about that when we climbed the steps up from the landing to go and wait outside the Great Hall. I'd heard about the ceiling, too. It was a clear night with a bright moon, and I wondered if Mum and Dad were just putting me on when they said it was like being outside if you looked up? I wasn't sure, but the entryway was neat. You could still smell fresh paint from where they'd repaired the battle damage, and see the difference in new woodwork. Some of the stairs and marble looked newer, too. I'd read that the place had really been torn up, and it had taken hundreds of Witches and Wizards all summer long to fix it. I thought it looked OK, and it smelled like a new house. We were all busy talking about it, trying to explain to the Muggleborns what had happened and that there'd been a war. Well, I didn't explain much, because I didn't know much. Yet.

We hadn't been around for it, though. That's why I had a lot to catch up on with my friends. Like my dad said, you can only say "no" to the Death Eaters so many times, then it's either join up or get killed. So we ran. I mean, Dad said it was us or them, and he wasn't going down and losing everything for the sake of some nutter who thought he could take over the world. We came first, me and Mum, so we got our stuff together and left the country. Dad said he had a feeling that Lord Voldemort (he didn't say the name, he called him "You Know Who") was going to lose, and he wasn't about to risk it. That was when I learned all about Muggles, because Mum used her Muggle Studies degree and got us to Heathrow and on a jet to America until it was all over. Gold coverts to Muggle money fast, and Muggles love little gold bars, so we didn't have it bad. We just didn't risk using magic. To this day, I can't comprehend can openers or why the Muggles all wanted "credit cards". (Dad never did learn how to drive. I don't know what insurance is or what it means, but they cancelled him!)  
>But there we were! We were finally <em>back<em>, the war was over, and I was at Hogwarts – where no one was going to ask, "MOMMY, why does that boy talk so funny?" I was right outside the door, ready to do real magic with my new wand. I just hoped that it would work right. Ollivander's had been wrecked the year before, and you don't have unicorns or dragons in America for wand cores. My wand was "native oak" with hair of the mane of a white buffalo in it, but the old Native American Shaman said it would be just fine, and well, it seemed to like me when I got it. It got all warm and tingling and made the wind blow, like someone was singing in the distance. The old chief nodded and that was that. He said it had chosen me, and wondered why we weren't staying. I was just glad I wasn't going to school there. I still don't know what a "box truck" is, or what the difference between "cookies" and "biscuits" is; they're the SAME thing? And cold tea on ice with lemon in it? How do they drink that stuff?

Never mind…

I was finally home, finally at Hogwarts, and that was all that mattered. We had to wait a while, too. I thought they'd forgot about us.  
>Then the door opened and Harry Potter came out to see us. Yep, "the" Harry Potter. The Chosen One, the boy who'd off'ed the Dark Lord last year. Well, he didn't look like a boy to me. I'm eleven, I'm a boy. He was eighteen now, of age, and he was a man. He also had a big white spot on his robe, and muttered, "Oh, Teddy!" about something while he was trying to clean it off. Dad wasn't sure what to think about him, but Dad didn't like Gryffindors. I remembered him saying that I'd probably not learn a thing with a bunch of them teaching. My letter said that almost all my teachers would be from that House, except for Horace Slughorn, who was a Slytherin, and he'd be my Potions teacher. I didn't care who was teaching though. I just wanted to get on with it!<p>

Then I saw the Sorting Hat.

OK, my folks said they didn't care which House I got put in, so long as it wasn't Gryffindor. I don't know why Dad didn't like them so; he just didn't. Mum said she didn't care, and any House was fine with her. I know Dad had some cousins down around Kent that were mostly Ravenclaws, but we didn't see them very much. I figured if I had a cousin there (I didn't), I wouldn't even know them now.

Professor Potter was explaining about the four Houses on the way up the aisle, but I already knew all that. I kinda listened, but I was staring at the ceiling. It was really cool. Then the Hat started singing a song about the four Houses, something about appearances being deceiving, and tolerance. It was all so great. I'd been smiling since we'd hit Kings Cross, and I was still smiling. Hogwarts at last!

Then Professor Potter said he was going to call out names and we'd be Sorted. That was when everybody got nervous. That was it. Sorting. I know I nervous. I looked around, and there were kids at all four tables staring at us. It was like we were new broomsticks in the window or something, and they were all shopping. That, or they had that look on their face like Mum does when she's buying groceries – looking at the meat, squeezing the fruits? You know? I wondered what was going to happen, because some of the other kids were talking about having a pop quiz or fighting off a Troll. One kid mentioned something called a "skrewt". I felt like a piece of meat or something.

But there wasn't a quiz. All you had to was sit on the stool and put on the Hat. I knew it would be a while before they got to me, because my last name was "Scott". That was when I looked around at the tables. I figured if they were all gonna stare at us, I was gonna stare back.

The far table, for Slytherin House, wasn't even half full. We'd heard stuff while we were hiding in America, but with it being a war and all, I guess the Death Eaters didn't want much news to get out. Dad was worried that there wouldn't even be a Slytherin House left, since so many of the old families had went with the Dark Lord, and most of them were in Azkaban now. I didn't know what happened to their kids, but there weren't really any younger ones at the Slytherin Table. I figured the youngest might have been Third Years? Maybe? But there weren't any big kids. I mean, like Seventh Years. There weren't many at all, come to think of it. The other three tables were pretty crowded, though.

I was getting worried, but I clapped when Matthew Adams went into Hufflepuff. Dad said they were all duffers, but Mum said that was where the hard working and dedicated kids went. Her best friend had been in Hufflepuff. Mum found out when we got back to London that she'd died in the war, and Mum cried for days.

That's why I was worried. Kids hear things, you know. You think we're asleep, or your voice is low, but we're not and it isn't. They talked about it a lot. She even tried to talk Dad into staying in America, but he wouldn't have it. He said our family had been around since King Arthur's day, and he wasn't having it. I was going to Hogwarts, and that was that. No son of his was going to go to school in America.

But it was OK to run from a war and not fight? I mean, one kid told me that fifty people died defending the Castle from the Dark Lord. How many died attacking it? Did they all think they were doing the right thing?

Was my dad a…coward, then?

"**Avery, Geoffrey!"**

"**RAVENCLAW!"**

We were all clapping.

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor again, a few more Hufflepuffs…but nobody was going into Slytherin? I looked at the table again, and no one was watching us now from there. They were looking at their empty plates, or the floor, or the ceiling. Professor Slughorn, up there with the staff, looked like he was going to be ill. It kinda worried me, because Mum and Dad both spoke highly of him. I was anxious to meet him. Dad had been in something called a "Slug Club".

"SCOTT, TRISTAN!" I heard Professor Potter call my name.

That was when it all went to hell.

I just didn't know it yet.

It took a while with me. The Hat asked me all kinds of questions, in my head, about my folks, my name, where I lived, what I thought of the States, how my wand worked. It was like playing '20 questions' or something. Bit annoying, really. Then it finally asked the big one: "_Why_ did your parents flee?"

Well, I couldn't lie to it, could I? I mean it was in my head! So I told it: "My dad said that me and Mum came first. That was what was important –_us_."

"**SLYTHERIN!"**

Professor Potter took the Hat off my head.

Everyone was staring at me. It was quiet. Too quiet. Was there something on my robe? I looked down and saw that my tie was now green and silver, and the generic Hogwarts crest was a now a Slytherin one – the snake on it seemed to be looking at me funny, too, like it didn't like me.

I wasn't smiling any more.  
>Why wasn't anyone clapping?<p>

Everyone clapped when the other kids got Sorted, didn't they? Why was no one clapping for me? The other kids had all went to their tables, and people stood up and shook their hands, clapped them on the back, whistled, and made room for them to sit. Even the other Firsties, waiting in line, clapped and cheered. When I looked over there, no one at the Slytherin table had even moved. They weren't even looking at me. _What did I do wrong_?

"Go on, son," Professor Potter told me, pointing, "It'll be fine."

I heard the Hat go "hmpf" once.

It didn't sound to me like it was going to be fine.

No one shook my hand. No one patted my back. No one cheered. They all just made way, like I smelled bad or something. Maybe they just didn't like me?

But why?

The older kids were all at the far end of the table, so I just went and sat down near the head. It was closest, and I didn't want to be standing there in front of them all anymore. I just wanted to disappear.

Then it hit me – the war. The old family names.

Purebloods.

Many of the old families are allying with the Dark Lord…

I recognized some of the faces. They had to know me, or at least, my surname. You couldn't get much older than "Scott," unless it was "Black" or "Weasley".

I slid down on the bench and looked around. Everyone was watching the Sorting again. The chatter was resuming. That one Muggleborn kid, I think, not Matthew – maybe it was William-something? He went into Gryffindor.

They all cheered for _him_. Even the other Houses.

But no one at our table did. I clapped my hands once, then thought better of it. I slid down a bit further, because when William sat down at his table, he glanced at me with this awful look on his face. He was talking to the kids there already, Seconds, I think. They weren't very big. They all looked at _me,_ looked back at him, and had that "oh really?" look on their faces.

Matthew never looked over at me again.  
>Two girls made it into Slytherin, and no one clapped for them either. They sat further down, and they didn't even look at me, either, when they went by. But no one even said "boo" to them, either. I saw they weren't talking to one another. Who wants to talk to girls, though?<p>

Then Headmistress McGonagall was talking, telling us about banned items, stay out of the Forest, and stuff. I didn't really hear her. I was too surprised. The Sorting couldn't be over, could it? Where was everyone else?

I was the only First Year boy in Slytherin.

Even Geoff Avery, he'd been my friend ever since we were little, had gone into Ravenclaw right off. That was OK, though, he was really smart. We'd all clapped for him, in line, since "A" went first.

But he didn't clap for me. He didn't even look at me. And he was my friend?

"Geoff?" I called. I guessed he couldn't hear me. It was noisy at his table.

I was all by myself at our quiet table.

Then the food appeared in front of me. I could hear everyone gasping, being surprised, and then the sounds of clinking china and eating, talking, and "pass this" or "pass that please!" There was a platter of chicken in front of me. I could easily reach a shepherd's pie. My mouth was dry, and I didn't even know it. My lips were stuck together. I got some cold water.

The smell of the food was making me sick to my stomach. I thought I'd vomit if I ate.  
>So I didn't eat.<p>

Not even the desserts.

I dunno if anyone else at our table ate. I never looked at them. Why would I? They didn't even look at me when I'd come over. Didn't they want me? Had the Hat made a mistake? Did I do something wrong?

When the welcome feast was over, we were dismissed. Professor McGonagall told the Prefects to lead us all off to our Houses, but everyone else just got up and left our table without saying anything. The two girls followed them all out, but I waited a moment. It was crowded, everyone was getting up at once. I waited a bit, to let them clear. I don't like crowds. I didn't want to get stepped on.  
>I waited.<p>

I looked all around.

My Prefect never came.

No one was left at the table but for me. I looked up, but the staff was leaving. Professor Slughorn was gone, too. The dirty dishes vanished off the tables. Even the Ghosts, who'd been floating around the room, shimmered and vanished. If we had a Ghost, I'd not seen him. Maybe Slytherin didn't rate even a Ghost any more?

Most of the students were gone now, a few of the older ones were milling about just outside the Hall. When I got up and walked out, my shoes were loud on the stone floor. I dunno if the moon had set. I was watching the floor, my shoes, since I couldn't feel my feet anymore.

"Eh-excuse me?" I asked a tall girl, who was chatting with her friends. They all went quiet and just looked at me.

"What?" She said, and her lip curled up. Next thing I knew, I was looking at the tips of about six wands.

I put my hands up and backed away slowly. "N-nothing!" my voice squeaked. "I'm sorry!"

"You're right," one of them pulled a face at me.

"I…I'll just find my House, on…on m-my own?" I pointed to my left, nodding.

"You do that," another of them sniffed.

They just went back to talking, like I wasn't even there. I turned around, almost ran into a statue of a pig with wings, and then something hit me in the back. In the arse. It knocked me down, and it stung like hell. I hit my elbow on the floor, and I thought I'd broken it when I fell. I remember I screamed, and when I got back up, they were laughing. They weren't looking at me, but they were laughing as they walked off.

My new trousers were torn at the knee, and it was bleeding. My arse was stinging, like I'd been spanked, and I was sure now that I was going to vomit. The girls just moved on. When they'd gone, I got up, rubbing my elbow. From above, I could still hear the other kids. Some were laughing, as the staircase they were on was moving. It sounded like the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, headed up to their towers, were having a wonderful time. Me, I was headed down – down into the dungeons.

I limped around the ground floor for a bit, not sure where to go. One door was a broom cupboard. Another opened into a brick wall, a door to nowhere. I found the big oak doors that led you out, but they were locked. Yeah, I tried it. I figured the train might still be there, or I could limp down to the village and get a room for the night before Floo'ing my folks. But my trunk and my owl were somewhere in the Castle.

So was my House, if I could find it.

Dad had said it was in the dungeons, so I looked for stairs going down. When I found them, I went down into a long creepy corridor. There were torches, but they didn't put out much light. I found another storage cupboard, then a toilet, and I finally vomited. The hot water didn't work, so I washed up with cold water and rinsed my mouth out. The corridor was a dead end.

I should have followed everyone else out of the Hall.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YER DOIN' DOWN THERE?" Someone yelled at me, and I jumped. It was Mr. Filch, the caretaker who'd been stalking about the back of the Hall when we'd been Sorted. He had a cat with red eyes, and it hissed at me. I guess the cat didn't like me either. He sure didn't sound like _he_ did.

"Please, I…I'm lost, sir," I managed.

He grabbed me by the collar and jerked me off my feet, choking me. He dragged me back up the stairs, shoved me forward, and I almost fell again. He pointed. "That' way, down THEM steps o're there, an' keep goin' 'til yeh can't go no more!"

Then he just turned and walked away.

"Thank you!" I decided to not risk being rude. I'd had a proper upbringing, after all. Maybe Dad's saying of "filthy Squib" was right after all? But then again, everyone had been nice to me, even Matthew the Muggleborn, and Hagrid, up until…

"Until you became a Slytherin," I muttered to myself.

This surely wasn't the Hogwarts I'd read about. It wasn't the Hogwarts I'd seen coming across the lake, was it? No, it couldn't be. Someone had to be playing a prank. Any minute, someone would jump out and laugh, the lights would come on, and it would all be over. I'd be smiling again, feeling stupid, and I'd go off to my House with my friends.

What friends?  
>No one jumped out and yelled.<p>

The Sorting was over.

Something hit me in the head. I yelped, thinking it was those rude girls again. But it was a Ghost, and he'd thrown a bit of chalk at me. Then he blew a raspberry and zoomed off, cackling about me being out of bounds and "Fifty points from Slytherin!"

At least _he_ was happy.

But I was right back where I started. My knee was burning, my arse was still sore, and my arm was now throbbing.

Then I heard someone: "Hurry up! We've only got ten minutes! You might have dropped it over there!" I saw a short boy, bit bigger than me, coming down the stairs with another boy. He had a Prefect's badge, but they were both Gryffindors. When they saw me, they stopped. The little one pulled his wand at once.

"What'r _you _doing here?" He demanded.

I just held up my hands. A couple of those girls who'd Hexed me had been Gryffindors, too. Maybe I was good for something, after all? Target practice?

I tried to talk, but my mouth was stuck again. I could still taste vomit.

"You're the only one, then?" The little one then asked.

I nodded.

"How thick can you be?" Prefect-boy shook his head. "Why didn't you go with _your _Prefect? Oh, hang on!" He then snickered, "Slytherin doesn't _have_ a Prefect, do they?"

I just shrugged. "I guess not."

"Dennis?" The other boy, a Firstie I knew from the train, tugged at his sleeve. We'd traded chocolate frog cards, him and me. Now he was looking at me with wide eyes.

"Right, then! You seen a pocket watch? Martin here's lost one."

I shook my head. Next thing I knew, I was hanging upside down in midair and my pockets were inside out. My card fell on the floor, face down. He dropped me, and my head banged off the floor. Now I had a palm to match my knee, and probably a knot on my head pretty soon. My elbow was on fire, it felt like. "I don't much care for _your_ kind," little Dennis warned me, "You might want Madame Pomfrey to look at that hand, up the steps, second floor, down the left corridor." Then they just left me. I could have been bleeding to death? It sure looked like it. Well, at least he'd told me where to find the nurse.

I was glad I hadn't found the kid's watch.

My head was killing me by the time I got to the Hospital Wing. There was a Witch there, in a white robe with a white headdress. I guessed that she was the Healer as I limped in.

She just looked at me. I guess I was something to see: dirty and torn robe and trousers, bleeding knee, bloody hand, dirty face. I didn't want to cry. It would be humiliating. I'd had enough of that already.

"And so it begins," she sighed, motioning me towards an exam table and levitating me up on it. A few hours ago, I would have thought that was fun. I might have laughed. On second thought, I _did_ want to cry.  
>But I couldn't.<p>

A flick of her wand, and my ruined new uniform was off, right down to my pants.

"Lay back," she told me, and I could feel it tingling as she moved her wand over my knee, then my elbow, my head. Finally, she took my hand. Her hand was warm.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Ma'am. I fell down."

"These are Hex wounds," she informed me. "Who did it?"

"I dunno, Ma'am. I'm new. I'm l-lost. They…they just left me in…in the Hall…"

She was looking at my uniform then, shaking out my ruined robe. She was staring at the Slytherin crest. "You're the only one," she pointed out. She sounded sad.

Like I didn't know that already.

Like the _whole school_ didn't know that already.

"Child, _why_ didn't you ask the Hat to put you someplace else?"

"It didn't ask, Ma'am," I fumbled. Well, it hadn't?  
>But at least she was talking to me. My knee and elbow felt better, but my head still hurt. She put some salve on my palm, which was still red and sore. Then she bandaged it and put some kind of small patch on my forehead that tingled. Another flick of her wand, and I was suddenly dressed in white pyjamas. My uniform and shoes had vanished.<p>

"I think you should spend the night _here_," she told me, showing me to a bed. The floor was very cold on my bare feet.

I finally lost it when she tucked me in.

"I…I wanna go home," I cried, and the tears finally came. "Nobody likes me. I…I don't _know _what I did wrong, honestly!"

"What's your name, child?"

"S-Scott. Tristan Scott."

"'Tristan', meaning 'sorrowful'," she sighed again. "How fitting." She paused, got up, then returned with a potion for me.

It made me dizzy, but my stomach settled.

"I saw you there, all alone at the table," she said softly. "You didn't eat."

"I got sick," I told her. Then, I don't know why I said it. It sounded so stupid. "No one clapped for me."

"No, they wouldn't," she agreed. "Do you play Quidditch?" She summoned a glass of water for me.

"No?"

"Well, that's got you in _my_ good graces, then," she replied. "Tristan, who Hexed you?"

"Some little boy with a fake Prefect badge, I think," I told her. "A Gryffindor." I swallowed, and decided to ask. "_Why_ don't they like me?"

She put her hand on my cheek then. It was still warm. I felt so stupid, but I wanted my mum so bad. I wanted to just go home, go to sleep in my own bed.

She looked confused, but at least she wasn't staring at me like I was something nasty on the bottom of her shoe. "You don't really know, do you? Tristan, I don't know how to tell you this, but you're going to have a rough time of it, at least for a while, I think. You see, my boy, almost everyone here was hurt by the war. How can you not know? Many of the students lost family. Some of them are orphans, now. That's why they don't like you."

"We ran away," I confessed. "We…_I _didn't do anything to _them_?"

"But they're going to hate you, just as well," she told me, and then it hit me.

"Because I'm in Slytherin?"

She nodded. "Many of the Slytherins didn't even come back this term, even though they were invited," she went on. "I'm worried about Horace, Professor Slughorn, that is. Your Head of House. He's very depressed. He was the only Slytherin who stayed behind to fight the Dark Lord's army. Well, and Narcissa Malfoy, who betrayed him."

I couldn't help it. I kept crying, turning my face into my pillow. "W-we were in America, we d-didn't know," I finally got it out. "G-guess Professor Slughorn, he knew. He just left, after d-dinner. They all just left…"

"I know," she told me. Then she smoothed my hair, just like my mum did. By then, I was getting sleepy. "Why don't you spend the night here with me? You'll be safe here. I'll be right in there," she pointed to a door, but I couldn't really see it. Everything was getting fuzzy, and I was yawning.

It was a nice bed, I remember. It was soft and warm.

"Tristan, let me tell you a story," she began.

The sun was shining in the window when I woke up the next morning. Madame Pomfrey brought me a tray, but I wasn't hungry. She'd let me have a lie in, but I had to get dressed and go to class.

I had to face the school – alone.

It was hard doing up my shirt and tie with a bandaged hand, and I was making a real mess of it. Then the door opened.

"Hello, my boy!"

"Professor Slughorn!" I know I looked awful. Just out of bed, half-dressed, hair a mess. I certainly wasn't impressing my Head of House, now that he'd finally come to see me.

"So, are you staying on with us?" He asked in a voice very small for such a big man.

I nodded. I had to stay. I wasn't going to quit. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of running me out. My family was old. My daddy was a Slytherin. So was his. Back to the days of Merlin, he'd always told me in those bedtime stories.

Different stories from the one Madame Pomfrey had told me.

"Yes, sir!" I answered him, as he did up my collar and tie for me.

He smiled at me. "Good lad!"

And he patted my back.


End file.
